Grit and Grizzle
by maisy5217
Summary: Life for Remus Lupin seemed hopeless. But a letter delivered by an owl proves it isn't.


_This is going to turn out to be a longer story, with eventually longer, better chapters. I just wanted to get it out, because I'm excited. This isn't my best writing. I'd say I took about an hour, if even, to write this and (sort of) revise it. So expect better from me._

 _Let it be known, also, that it's been more than 2 years since I last read Harry Potter and quite some time since I've read any fanfiction. I grew out of it, but I want to grow back into it. If anything here is inaccurate, point it out, and I'll gladly fix it._

 _Lastly do not expect regular updates. I'm on the track team and I have practice every day, and schoolwork I'm responsible for. This story (and your entertainment) is not on the top of my priority list._

 _With that being said, I do not own the Marauders._

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 _Prologue Part I_

Rebecca swirled her scrambled eggs around with her fork. Mum had cooked them the muggle way, with gas and a stove. I liked them. At least, they were better than Dad's, who always tried something new with the way he flicked his wand and made them turn out weird.

Rebecca's head snapped up and she stared at me. Her eyes were dangerous, they were green and they mirrored mine. I sunk back in my seat, dragging my fork across my plate.

"Stop it. I hate that noise."

I let go of my fork only to let it clatter down to the plate. A fake pleasant smile crossed my face.

"Sorry about that, Becky."

I always played games with Rebecca because it was easy to get on her nerves. Besides, she was extra on-edge today because it was only one week before September 1st. She was expecting her letter.

Rebecca rolled her eyes at me and went back to picking at her food. "Little monster," she sneered, and then the worry came back to her face. She called out to Mum, "do you think they could've forgotten to send out my letter?"

"I don't think so," Mom yelled back from the kitchen. "but don't ask me, darling. You know I know nothing about you people's way of post."

"You can say it, Mum. _Owls._ We call them owls."

"Of course. Sorry dear."

Mum always acted all freaked out when we brought up wizard stuff around her. I didn't get why, she had known Dad for almost 20 years. She was always calling those years _the best but absolute strangest 20 years of my life._

The kitchen door swung open and Dad came pounding in. He looked like he hadn't slept in months. His bathrobe still hung lazily around his ankles.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mum bite her lip. Dad worked for the Ministry, so when he was like this, that was usually the reason for it.

"Everything alright, sweetie?" Mum queried gingerly.

"The damn Ministry," Dad thumped into the kitchen and roughly poured himself a glass of milk. "and their Defense Against the Dark Arts. Can't ever seem to keep that damn beast Greyback under control."

"What is it this time," Mum asked in a hushed whisper. Her eyes lingered on me and Rebecca. I dipped my head down and pretended to be interested in my food, but I never stopped listening.

"He's out," Dad rasped, in a voice even quieter than Mom's. "Loose. Again"

Mom shook her head. "I don't see why they don't just kill the thing."

"They can't. He'd kill them first. I'm telling you, Margaret, those werewolves are getting to be a problem to society. It'd be damn easier if they just didn't exist."

Rebecca shot me a look from across the table. We both knew how Dad felt about werewolves. He talked about it all the time. " _A bloody nuisance._ " Was his favorite thing to refer to them as.

Mum didn't say anything back to Dad. She tutted her teeth, then swiveled around to turn off the stove.

Then Dad leaned in close to her and said something in a voice I couldn't hear.

I saw Mum go white as a sheet. She cleared her throat shrilly, and I could tell she was trying to hold down a million layers of panic.

"Kids," she choked out. "If your father and I could talk for a moment?"

My bottom lip stuck out, I wanted to stay. I was always interested with what Mum and Dad were talking about. But Rebecca sent me a glare harsh enough to kill across the table, and ushered me quickly out of the kitchen. Mom's muggle-made scrambled eggs were left lying out to get cold.

* * *

 _Should I continue? Please let me know in a review. It's the only way I can possibly know._

 _Thanks for reading. :)_


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